Remember
by Noxid Anamchara
Summary: In the aftermath of the Woodbury invasion, Daryl deals with his loss. And Carol is there for him, keeping her promise. Caryl.


**Nox: **This is for everyone whose been with me through Promise and Never Let Go. That being said, if you haven't read Promise, and if you haven't read Never Let Go, then context in the story will make absolutely no sense. But do what you will. So many of you were heartbroken that NLG ended the way it did. But I always had this niggling moment in the back of my mind that continued on. And so, I give you this. _Caryl_ in all its glory.

**Disclaimer**: The Walking Dead belongs to Kirkman and AMC.

* * *

Remember

She wanted to forget. _Needed _to forget. Everything hurt. Her body, her mind, her _heart_. She couldn't even think about what had happened without the tears welling up in her eyes, and the pain of _yesterday_ so fresh it was like it had just happened.

She clutched him tighter, round the waist, resting her head against his back. The wind rushed over them, and the rumble of the bike filled her ears, trying to drum out everything else.

But it just wasn't working. She couldn't unsee, couldn't unhear, couldn't _forget_ his face.

His empty face. His empty blue-gray eyes. His still, broken body wrapped up around hers.

She turned her face into his back, the feel of the rough leather, and the wings rubbing hard against her skin. She breathed in deep, the scent of leather, earth and sweat filling her nose.

And the tears, they just came anew. Not that she'd been able to stop them since it'd happened.

"_Merle!" He was shaking him, his brother, his body limp, lifeless. _

"_Merle," he sobbed, pulling him against his chest, rocking back and forth. She'd pulled away from Merle's body, the feel of his limp arms around her _wrong_. _

_He was _dead_. No more smartass remarks, no more volatile outbreaks, no more of that rough voice calling out 'Mouse.'_

_He was dead and there was nothing to be done about it. _

_She felt the tears well up, her chest constrict and she buried her face in her hands. _

"_You 'n me, brother," he murmured, no longer rocking, holding Merle's body clutched to his chest, the blood coating him. _

_He buried his face in Merle's neck, and breathed, his fingers digging deep into Merle's sides. _

_And then she saw his fingers twitch. _

"_Daryl," she whispered, reaching out as if to touch him, but never quite doing that. She didn't want to disturb the scene that was happening, but knowing that _something_ was going to need to be done. _

_He didn't even look up at her. _

_Just reached around behind him, and pulled a gun out from the back of his pants. _

_He let the gun fall to the ground at his side, and she heard a sob break from him. _

"_Fuck Merle," he choked, "always makin' me do the hard shit." She placed her hand over her mouth, covering the sob that was going to rip through her. _

_She should do it. She was the one who'd caused this. She was the one he had died for. _

"_Daryl I can do it, if…" He looked up, anger, sadness, and pain shining from his eyes. _

"_He's _my _brother. I can do it," he tried to bark at her but he just ended up choking on it in the end. The tears slipped down his cheeks and he looked down at Merle, biting his lip. _

"_Goddammit Merle." He bent his head toward Merle's and touched their foreheads together. _

"_You said it was you 'n me," he said, coming out ragged. "Said you'd never leave." The desperation in that whisper sent her heart into her throat. _

_Carol wanted to reach out, wanted to hold him, wanted to comfort him, wanted to erase everything that had just happened. But she knew he needed this time to be with Merle. Knew that she couldn't give him anything right now. _

"_Ain't never gonna forget ya, brother." He picked up the gun, and placed it against his head. _

"_I love you," he whispered, closing his eyes, and pulled the trigger._

Watching Daryl, put Merle down, had been one of the hardest things for her to do. But it made her love him, all the more. The strength it took, for him to do that, to watch his brother die, and then to end his life before it became something _evil_ took a strength that most people didn't have.

And now, it was like that strength was just slowly fading, as if he didn't have it in him anymore to keep going. They were at the back of the caravan, instead of leading it this time. Rick could see the grief in his eyes, between the both of them, had given that silent nod that she knew was meant to give them space.

Carol gave no hesitation in going towards his bike either, loping her leg over the seat and wrapping her arms around his stiff body. She wasn't going to let him be alone in this.

And it wasn't as if the group had gone without its own loses. Sasha and Allen had been taken down, and Tyreese was trying to console Ben, Allen's son.

Andrea had come back to them, the shock of that still not hitting her, and she wasn't sure what was going to happen between everyone when they all got a moment to just _breathe._

And Hershel. A man she had grown to love, like a mentor, a _father_. He had been taken down by the Governor. Lost.

His loss was hard on the group. Maggie and Beth couldn't seem to function properly and Glenn was doing a beautiful job of taking care of them both.

But none of that mattered to her. All that mattered was that the man she held in her arms, right then, was grieving, and he was broken, and he was _lost_.

And suddenly, he veered the bike off, turning sharply in the opposite direction they had been going.

"Daryl?" she yelled over the rumble of the bike, and the wind in her face. He didn't say nothing, just kept going, gripping the handle bars tighter. She looked back at the caravan, and waved back, hoping they wouldn't follow.

Knowing that Daryl needed something, needed time and space and a moment to breathe.

They drove on for a time, she clutched to his back, just going with him. She couldn't be sure how much time had passed, but it felt like too long. She knew the group would either keep going, or they would stop. But sooner or later, Daryl would have to stop as well.

Would have to face this.

She didn't know why he picked this spot, or what it might have meant to him, but it seemed appropriate to _her_.

He rolled up, onto the hill with its rolling green meadows and fading sunlight, and dropped his foot. He kicked the stand out and jumped off the bike before she even had the chance to dismount. He tripped over his feet, over the bike and almost fell to the ground but he righted himself.

She sat there and waited, knowing in her heart that this was going to hurt. This was his moment to let it go.

"He weren't supposed to die!" The pain that cracked his voice hit her in the chest, sent the tears to her eyes.

"Not like that!" He kicked at the ground, and his words stung her, for the briefest moment. She dropped her head, and wrapped her arms around herself.

It _had_ been her fault that he'd died. She was the reason Merle was dead. And she couldn't blame Daryl for hating her for that. Perhaps this was the price she paid for letting her daughter be taken by a world of walkers. For not doing her job as a mother.

She felt a firm grip take her by the chin and lift her head.

"It ain't yur fault," he stressed, his voice catching. But she could see the pain in his eyes, the doubt. She reached up, to take hold of his wrist.

"It's not yours either," she whispered. She watched his eyes well up, and he jerked away from her.

"Hell if it ain't," he yelled hoarsely. He dropped to a squat and sat there.

"Fuck you Earl!" He fell back on the ground, knees to his chest, and cradled his head.

"Fuck you daddy," he whispered. And Carol had never heard those words come out his mouth before, had never heard him talk family. She got up from the bike, and approached him, kneeling behind his back.

"Never loved us, never gave us nothin' but _pain_." His face twisted, and he whirled on her.

"He made us this way! Screwed us in the fuckin' head!" There was so much desperation on his face, and she didn't know what to do. She reached out, and placed a tentative hand on his shoulder.

She felt him lean in towards her, just a little, and that was enough for her to know that he needed her. He needed her but he wouldn't ever admit it.

"Ain't done nothin' right since tha day I was born. And now, Merle's gone, 'n that's on _me_." His words were like knives, cutting her to pieces. This was the pain of his past. The darkness that he'd survived but couldn't ever outrun.

For his father, to have ingrained in him that he was _useless_, that he couldn't do anything right _ever_, was wrong. No child, no man should ever have to know that kind of hate.

She grabbed his face gently, waiting to see how he would respond, and turned him to look at her.

"You've done more for the group, for my little girl, for _me_ than anyone else since the world went to hell." He made to pull away from her, but she gripped him tight, caressed his cheekbone with her thumb.

"You are worth more than anyone else I know," she whispered heatedly, holding his gaze steadily. Tears slipped down his cheeks, ran over her fingers, and he took a breath. It washed over her face, reminding her that though he was strong, he was still just a man. He still _felt _just like the rest of them.

And that was the beauty of Daryl. He was a man tortured by his past, it was even _written _on his body, and still he had to be strong. For the group. For her. For _himself._

But now, it was her turn to be strong for him.

"I made a promise to your brother," she said, steeling herself, holding back the tears. "To take care of you." He searched her face, and his brow furrowed, confused.

"Hell you mean? I ain't need nobody ta take care a me." He pulled away from her, harshly, and stood up. He started pacing, running a hand through his hair.

"Why the hell would you go an' promise Merle somethin' like that?" He stopped, hands fisted at his sides. Anger was quickly replacing his grief.

"I ain't yur fuckin' problem. Merle ain't got no right," he demanded. He took a step toward her, and she stood up.

She had to tell him. Even if it was the wrong time. Even if he pushed her away. She wouldn't let him walk away from her again. They were in this, together, for good. He could say, do whatever the hell he wanted to her but she wouldn't ever walk away from him.

Not ever again.

She walked forward, and took hold of his hand. He tried to pull away, but she held firm to his calloused hand, rough and scarred in hers. She wasn't going to let him run away anymore.

And she wasn't running either.

They'd both already lost Merle, and it was time to start living like these moments were their last.

"Merle asked me because he loved you," she said, pulling him toward her. He followed her hand hesitantly, unsure of her intentions.

They were close enough that she had to look up into his face, close enough to touch his body that all she had to do was reach out a little, and he was there.

"And I promised him because _I _love _you_." She'd never thought she would ever let that admission free, but it felt so good to do so.

For a moment she didn't think he'd heard her. He stood there, holding her hand, staring at her face. She knew she'd said it softly, but she didn't know it would be-

"What the hell?" He ripped his hand from hers, and stomped away, hands in the air.

"You can't just-you don't just-" He floundered for the words he wanted to say, looking more confused, looking so lost, she didn't know how to console him.

Because she did love him. And it was time he knew that.

He approached her, eyes narrowed. "Merle is _dead_," he spat, shoving his finger in her chest. "An' you got the _nerve_ to sit here 'n tell me, that you, that you…" He growled in frustration and raised an arm at her.

She grabbed it quickly, knowing he would never hurt her, but knowing that he was far too upset to know _what_ to do. "It's _because_ he's dead that I have to tell you," she said so quiet, moving closer to his body. He looked down at the space between them, panic suddenly written on his face.

"You don't have to say anything," she said, trying to quell his anxiety. "But I just…_I _need to tell you. I want you to know how I feel about you. I will always be here, for _you_." She couldn't look away from him, couldn't let his eyes go.

He pulled his arm away from her, more gently this time, and walked away, looking unsure of what to do. He took one last long look at her, and then walked to the bike.

"You said back there…" he swung his leg over the bike, eyes cast downward, "you told Merle you loved him too."

She approached him, and ran her fingers down his jaw, softly. "Merle," she said, and laughed a little, "he made me _care_ about him. There was more to him than we all knew." But Daryl didn't smile, didn't do anything.

"And me?" he asked quietly. She turned his face to hers and bent down to his level, holding those blue eyes with hers.

"I love you differently Daryl," she said softly, the rush of his breath mixing with hers. "I _love_ you, like I've never loved anyone before."

There was fear in his eyes, but…this time, she could see a mix of hope there too. Hope and maybe, just maybe feelings he could return for her.

She waited a moment, waited to see if he would pull back. And when he didn't she closed her eyes, and leaned forward.

When her lips met his, it was soft. The softest thing she'd experienced since the world had gone to hell. But it was also rough, because his lips were dry, and chapped. But the moment was right, it was _pure_. And her heart skipped a beat.

And nothing mattered anymore. All that mattered was that he hadn't pulled away, and he was still there, with her. His lips still pressed roughly against hers.

She pulled away first, and opened her eyes slowly.

He was staring at her, a questioning look on his face. But underneath it, she could see something else, something that made her heart beat faster in her chest.

He cleared his throat, and turned the bike on, revving it up. "Gotta catch up with the group," he said, looking at her from the corner of his eye.

She smiled, and threw her leg over, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"We won't forget him," she said, resting her chin on his shoulder. She could see the white scar, trailing over his shoulder. She reached up, touching it gently, following it. He looked down at her hand, and after a moment, touched his lips to her knuckles.

"We remember," she said, feeling her heart rise in her throat. That gesture gave her so much hope.

"We remember," he echoed, looking at her, his eyes full of sorrow, but also of hope.

He turned round then, and jumped the bike, heading them off towards where the group had been going.

And she buried her face in his back, the smell of him enveloping her, and the tears falling down her cheeks.

* * *

**A/N**: Can you believe it's only _minutes_ until the new episode? I'm literally _dying_ as I write this. I hope you enjoyed this moment of happiness between our two kits. I found so much googly goodness while writing it. And so you all know, this _is _a one-shot. I love you all.

Also, if you're looking for a **Walking Dead forum**, one of our very own _Junamrsgrl_, has created something really awesome. Called **Dead Girls Walking**. Check out my profile for the link. It's got links for you to post your own fanfiction, fan art, to talk about the episodes, and of course to talk about the _men. _Please go check it out.

_Your reviews would mean the world to me. _


End file.
